Ed/  Psych 

lib. 

BF 

38 

W879p 


WOODWORTH 
PSYCHOLOGY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


PSYCHOLOGY 


BY 


ROBERT  SESSIONS  WOODWORTH 


THE  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
1908 


: 


^PSYCHOLOGY; 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 

IN  THE  SERIES  ON  SCIENCE,  PHILOSOPHY  AND  ART 

MARCH  11, 1908  , 


PSYCHOLOGY 


BY 

ROBERT  SESSIONS  1WOODWORTH 


ADJUNCT     PROFESSOR   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 
COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY 


THE  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
By  THE  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS. 

Set  up,  and  published  April,  1908. 


Ed.  -  Psycti. 
Library 

BF 


PSYCHOLOGY 


IN  attempting  to  give  a  view  of  the  present  state  of  his 
science — a  view  that  shall  be  fairly  objective  and  free  from 
the  bias  of  his  own  particular  interests — the  psychologist 
encounters  a  peculiar  difficulty  in  that  the  camp  of  his  fel- 
lows is  divided.  Two  standards  are  displayed ;  two  parties 
are  in  the  field;  and  their  relations  are  not  always  so 
friendly  as  might  be  expected  of  soldiers  in  a  common 
cause.  Such  divisions  are  indeed  not  unknown  in  the  other 
sciences.  The  descriptive  and  the  dynamic  phases  of  a  sub- 
ject, the  study  of  structure  and  the  study  of  function,  fre- 
quently divide  the  workers  between  them,  and  sometimes 
those  who  hold  to  the  one  despise  the  other.  The  line  of 
cleavage  is  sharper  in  psychology  than  elsewhere:  those 
who  define  psychology  as  the  science  of  consciousness — 
the  "morphology  of  consciousness,"  as  one  has  put  it — 
maintain  that  any  study  which  does  not  contribute  to  the 
description  of  conscious  life  lies  beyond  the  pale  of  the 
science;  whereas  to  those  who  define  it  as  the  science  of 
those  functions  of  the  organism  which  are  roughly  desig- 
nated as  mental,  the  examination  of  the  consciousness  at- 
tending these  functions,  though  valuable  and  suggestive, 
does  not  lie  at  the  root  of  the  matter.  This  strife  is  indeed 
carried  on  more  at  the  level  of  theoretical  discussion  than  at 
that  of  practical  investigation,  for  those  who  work  at  spe- 
cial problems  are  apt  to  approach  them  from  both  sides. 
There  are  then  two  general  problems  of  psychology,  and 

5 


two  general  methods,  one  appropriate  to  each  problem. 
Consciousness  affords  a  rich  variety  of  phenomena,  which 
tempt  the  scientifically  inclined  observer  to  describe  and 
classify  them.  Even  as  the  variety  of  plants,  with  their 
gradations  of  likeness  and  difference,  led  the  naturalist  to 
descriptive  and  systematic  botany,  so  the  multitude  of  sen- 
sations and  emotions,  of  memories  and  fancies,  thoughts, 
desires  and  decisions  was  sure,  in  time,  to  entice  those  who 
were  gifted  both  with  scientific  curiosity  and  with  a  self- 
observant  temper  into  an  effort  at  setting  down  these  mul- 
tifarious appearances  in  some  kind  of  order.  The  method 
appropriate  to  such  studies  was  imposed  by  the  nature  of 
the  case.  As  we  can  not  enter  directly  into  the  conscious- 
ness of  our  fellows,  each  observer  must  examine  his  own, 
by  introspection.  And  not  all  self -observation  is  entitled 
to  be  called  introspection.  Since  a  thing  can  be  observed 
only  when  it  is  present,  the  observer  of  conscious  facts  must 
have  those  facts  within  him  at  the  moment  of  observation. 
He  must  serve  simultaneously  as  the  observer  and  as  the 
generator  of  the  thing  observed.  This  creates  a  difficulty 
for  the  introspectionist  which  is  practically  very  great,  and 
theoretically  insurmountable.  Comte  went  so  far  as  to 
assert  that  it  made  psychology  impossible.  The  subject 
and  the  object  of  an  observation  can  not  be  the  same,  he 
said.  I  can  not  divide  myself  into  two  persons  or  agents, 
one  of  whom  does  something  which  the  other  notes.  And 
without  such  a  division,  self -observation  is  impossible,  for 
if  I  do  anything,  I  am  occupied  with  doing  it  and  not  with 
observing  it,  whereas  if  I  set  myself  to  observe,  there  is 
nothing  doing  to  be  observed. 

The  antinomy  of  the  introspective  method  is  however  not 
quite  so  sharp  in  practise  as  the  philosopher  has  asserted. 
If  it  were,  you  could  not  even  state  with  confidence  that 
the  speaker's  voice  was  audible  to  you.  And  much  more 
than  this  is  possible.  You  can  be  sure  whether  the  word 

6 


"antinomy"  gave  rise  in  you,  a  moment  ago,  to  a  prompt 
feeling  of  recognition,  or  to  some  hesitancy  and  disaffection 
towards  the  speaker.  That  introspection  is  to  some  degree 
possible  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  consciousness  of  a 
moment  is  not  an  indivisible  unit,  but  has  parts.  More 
than  one  process  may  simultaneously  go  on  in  it,  and  one 
of  the  simultaneous  processes  may  consist  in  observation. 
Some  persons  frequently  have  the  feeling  of  a  division 
within  them,  one  part  being  engaged  in  watching  what  the 
other  is  doing. 

But  the  difficulty  of  introspection  is  only  half  overcome 
by  this  doubleness  of  consciousness,  for  the  processes  that 
go  on  simultaneously  are  not  without  influence  on  each 
other;  they  often  interfere  with  each  other's  completeness 
and  efficiency.  If  the  process  to  be  observed  is  easy  and 
the  observation  also  easy,  little  confusion  need  result ;  but 
when  the  process  to  be  observed  is  complex  or  absorbing, 
as  in  the  case  of  an  emotion  or  difficult  task,  it  becomes 
hard  to  maintain  the  attitude  of  the  scientific  observer ;  and 
in  so  far  as  the  observer's  attitude  is  maintained,  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  other  process  runs  its  normal  course.  Thus 
the  introspective  psychology  of  the  emotions  is  more  prop- 
erly the  psychology  of  the  emotions  while  psychologizing. 

Some  help  comes  to  us  here  from  the  existence  of  a 
"primary  memory,"  from  the  readiness  with  which  an  ex- 
perience can  be  recalled  before  it  has  fairly  passed  out  of 
consciousness.  Just  as  the  words  of  a  speaker  linger  for  a 
while,  and  may,  as  it  were,  be  forcibly  haled  back  before 
they  are  fully  gone,  to  receive  more  careful  attention  than 
they  got  at  first,  so  even  a  poignant  emotion  may  suggest, 
as  it  starts  to  fade  away,  that  here  is  the  opportunity,  so 
long  desired,  of  making  an  interesting  observation.  Such 
a  suggestion  would  hardly  occur  to  anyone  but  a  psy- 
chologist, and  not  to  him  as  often  as  might  be  desired. 

In  spite  of  these  mitigating  circumstances — the  possi- 

7 


bility  of  two  simultaneous  processes  in  consciousness  and 
of  primary  memory — the  case  of  introspection  is  a  hard 
one,  and  many,  even  psychologists,  are  disposed  to  regard 
its  results  as  seldom  reaching  the  standard  of  scientifically 
observed  facts. 

When,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  a  few  psycholo- 
gists believed  the  time  had  come  for  the  introduction  of 
experiment,  they  did  not  aim  to  substitute  a  new  method 
for  that  of  introspection,  but  to  provide  conditions  under 
which  introspection  could  be  more  precise.  One  improve- 
ment consisted  simply  in  making  it  first  hand,  in  substi- 
tuting definite  observations  for  vague  impressions  derived 
from  past  experience.  The  older  psychology — distinctly 
an  armchair  science— had  been  in  reality  less  introspective 
than  retrospective.  The  net  result  of  past  experience  had 
been  relied  on,  and  no  need  had  been  felt  for  going  back  to 
the  individual  instances.  Single  observations,  recorded  on 
the  spot,  form  the  basis  of  modern  psychology.  We  no 
longer  accept  a  general  conclusion  unless  we  are  shown  the 
individual  recorded  instances  on  which  it  rests. 

Along  with  recorded  observations  go  repeated  observa- 
tions. The  variability  of  conscious  events  is  so  great  that 
it  is  never  safe  to  depend  on  single  instances.  For  a  similar 
reason,  it  is  now  felt  to  be  unsafe  to  rely  on  the  introspec- 
tion cf  a  single  observer.  In  the  earlier  days,  which  now 
seem  to  us  days  of  happy,  easy  confidence,  when  the  psy- 
chologist had  made  an  observation  on  himself,  he  said,  not 
"I  do  so  and  so,"  but  "We  do  so  and  so,"  never  doubting 
that  other  minds  would  do  the  same  as  his.  Such  confi- 
dence is  now  known  to  be  misplaced.  The  varying  self- 
observations  of  many  minds  must  be  collated,  and  their 
agreements,  if  any,  separated  out  from  the  mass  of  dis- 
agreement, before  arriving  at  a  description  which  shall 
have  a  claim  to  universal  validity. 

These  reforms  have  made  introspection  more  conscien- 

8 


tious,  and  necessity  has  also  made  it  more  modest.  It  can 
not  hope  to  grasp  the  whole  of  a  conscious  event  in  a  single 
observation.  The  attention  of  the  observer  must  be 
focused  on  some  definite  and  often  minute  point.  He 
must  not  attempt  to  describe  his  experience  in  full,  but  to 
answer  the  simple  question,  "Do  you  observe  this — yes  or 
no?"  Such  observations  are  minute,  microscopic  almost, 
and  attempts  are  made  to  make  them  genuinely  micro- 
scopic in  some  such  way  as  the  following.  Besides  the 
observer,  in  whom  the  conscious  process  is  to  be  aroused,  a 
second  person  is  present  as  the  conductor  of  the  experi- 
ment, a  sort  of  stage  manager.  He  prepares  the  apparatus 
and  other  externals,  and  sets  the  observer  some  task,  such 
as  the  comparison  of  two  physical  stimuli  as  to  their  in- 
tensity, duration,  pleasureableness ;  or  it  may  be  some  in- 
tellectual problem  is  to  be  solved.  But,  instead  of  letting 
the  observer  alone  till  the  task  is  finished,  he  interrupts  him 
in  its  midst,  and  questions  him  regarding  the  consciousness 
present  at  that  stage.  Now  ordinarily,  with  the  naked 
eye  of  introspection,  we  attend  so  little  to  the  way  we  feel 
while  performing  a  mental  task,  to  the  consciousness 
which  intervenes  between  the  grasping  of  the  question  and 
the  appearance  of  the  answer,  that  we  could  give  little  ac- 
count of  it.  By  the  intervention  of  the  manager  of  the 
experiment,  it  becomes  possible  to  catch  some  of  the  fleet- 
ing consciousness  ere  it  disappears  and  so  to  reveal  details 
which  would  otherwise  remain  hidden. 

By  such  devices,  introspection  can  be  made  to  give  data 
of  sufficient  precision  for  scientific  use ;  but  the  data  are  of 
a  minute  and  technical  sort,  and  fail  to  satisfy  the  natural 
curiosity  of  man  as  to  the  deeper  and  higher  things  in  ex- 
perience— the  absorbing  emotions  or  the  flights  of  imagi- 
nation. In  short  the  complaint  is  made  that  experimental 
psychology  is  lacking  in  human  interest;  and  should  not 
psychology,  of  all  subjects,  possess  human  interest?  The 

9 


psychologist  too  would  wish  to  rise  to  these  noble  themes, 
but  he  feels  that  he  could  not  as  yet  deal  properly  with 
them.  He  is  comforted  by  the  thought  that  the  excep- 
tional may  really  be  less  important  than  the  ordinary  run 
of  experience,  for  the  purposes  of  a  science  of  conscious- 
ness. As  history  shows  a  tendency  to  descend  from  the 
heroic  to  the  routine  in  the  experience  of  the  race,  believing 
that  only  thus  can  the  past  be  truly  revealed,  so  psychol- 
ogy, driven  largely  by  the  necessities  of  its  method,  has 
already  made  a  similar  descent.  It  might  well  be  ex- 
pected, therefore,  that  an  inventory  of  the  results  of  in- 
trospective psychology  would  be  rather  a  dry  and  technical 
affair,  unsuited  to  the  present  occasion.  Let  me  try,  how- 
ever, to  set  forth  a  few  results  which  may  have  some 
interest.  A  definition  is  first  necessary.  A  "moment"  in 
psychology— not  necessarily  a  "psychological  moment"- 
is  so  much  of  consciousness  as  seems  to  be  simultaneously 
present;  the  present  moment  of  consciousness  is  so  much 
experience  as  is  being  got  now — just  now.  Formerly, 
under  the  influence  of  physical  analogies  and  of  the  dogma 
of  the  unity  and  simplicity  of  the  mind,  the  moment  was 
conceived  as  a  point,  a  moving  point  to  be  sure,  and  a  point 
that  changed  in  quality  as  it  moved,  but  a  point  in  time, 
leaving  its  past  instantly  behind  it,  and  a  point  in  breadth, 
admitting  of  no  simultaneous  plurality.  Introspection, 
under  experimental  control,  reveals  no  such  mathemati- 
cally perfect  atom  of  consciousness.  The  moment  is  ex- 
tended in  at  least  two  dimensions.  It  is  extended  in  time. 
Absurd  as  it  may  seem  to  speak  of  the  present  moment  as 
reaching  back  a  little  way  into  the  past  and  even  forward 
a  little  into  the  future,  this  must  not  deter  us  from  de- 
scribing consciousness  as  we  find  it.  So  described,  the 
present  moment,  though  it  has  a  center  corresponding 
somewhat  with  the  mathematical  present,  contains  also  a 
dying  away  of  events  that  have  just  passed  the  center,  and 

10 


a  coming  in  of  events  that  have  not  yet  reached  the  center. 
The  shadows  which  coming  events  cast  before  them  in 
consciousness  are  partly  of  the  nature  of  expectancies,  and 
partly  due  to  the  imperfect  perception  of  events  which 
have  already  happened  but  are  only  beginning  to  take  hold 
of  us.  We  live  a  fraction  of  a  second,  or  more,  behind  the 
time,  and  can  never  catch  up,  because  time  is  always 
needed  for  a  new  event  to  win  the  center  of  consciousness 
from  the  old  event  that  holds  it.  The  center  of  the  felt 
present,  the  thing  which  most  occupies  the  field,  is  always 
a  little  behind  the  newest  thing  in  consciousness.  Nor 
does  the  old  event,  which  gives  way  to  the  new,  drop  in- 
stantly out  of  sight;  it  lingers,  gradually  dying  away;  it 
remains  as  something  which  is  passing  but  is  not  yet  wholly 
past. 

That  the  conscious  moment  has  another  dimension  be- 
sides its  length  in  time  is  also  clear  to  introspection.  A 
plurality  of  items  may  coexist  within  it;  the  contrary  doc- 
trine was  not  founded  on  empirical  observation. 

Yet  the  moment  is  not  a  bare  sum  of  discrete  items.  It 
shows  internal  organization.  The  items  are  related  to 
each  other ;  they  tend  to  be  grouped  into  wholes.  A  series 
of  sounds,  physically  of  equal  intensity  and  with  equal  in- 
tervals between  them,  is  not  heard  as  such.  Some  of  the 
sounds  receive  a  subjective  accent,  and  some  of  the  intervals 
are  subjectively  lengthened,  with  the  result  that  the  series 
seems  to  have  a  rhythmic  form.  So,  a  jumble  of  dots  on  a 
plain  background  are  seen  as  if  grouped.  The  grouping 
may  change  on  continued  examination ;  but,  at  any  one  mo- 
ment, the  dots  are  organized  in  a  certain  form.  However 
disconnected  the  items  presented  at  a  moment  may  be  as 
physical  facts,  they  are  almost  sure  to  appear  in  conscious- 
ness as  fused,  contrasted,  grouped  or  in  some  way  related 
to  each  other. 

The  moment  is  centered  about  some  item  which  is  tem- 

11 


porarily  the  most  prominent;  it  occupies,  as  we  say,  the 
focus  of  attention,  while  other  items  lie  more  to  the  margin 
of  inattention.  If  one's  mind  is  centered  on  a  speaker's 
thought,  then  the  peculiarities  of  his  voice  or  appearance, 
the  appearance  of  others  near  him  or  in  more  distant  parts 
of  the  room,  extraneous  noises,  and  one's  own  bodily  feel- 
ings, may  still  be  marginally  present  in  one's  conscious- 
ness ;  though  unimportant  intellectually,  the  blend  of  these 
obscure  components  of  consciousness  has  its  significance  as 
constituting  the  emotional  undercurrent  of  the  moment. 

One  moment  shades  off  into  another;  no  exact  bound- 
aries appear  between  them.  Their  sequence  is  not  like  a 
succession  of  separate  views,  but  each  dissolves  into  the 
next.  Professor  James,  in  a  chapter  which  is  among  the 
most  successful  efforts  at  introspective  description,  dis- 
cards the  old  metaphors  of  a  chain  or  train  of  ideas  as  en- 
tirely inadequate,  and  substitutes  the  figure  of  a  "stream 
of  thought."  He  also  calls  attention  to  the  existence  of 
conscious  transitions  or  modulations  from  one  prominent 
idea  to  the  next,  the  transitions  consisting  in  a  variety  of 
feelings  of  expectancy  and  relationship.  From  all  this  it 
will  be  seen  that  present  conceptions  of  conscious  process 
differ  widely  from  the  cut-and-dried  schemes  which  were 
current  a  generation  or  less  ago. 

An  important  result,  along  quite  a  different  line,  came 
out  of  Galton's  inquiry  into  the  mental  imagery  of  va- 
rious persons.  When  he  asked  them  to  think  of  some 
familiar  scene,  some  reported  that  a  picture  of  the  scene 
arose  within  them,  and  appeared  before  the  mind's  eye 
almost  as  if  present  to  sense.  Others  had  much  less  of 
this  pictorial  consciousness;  still  others  reported  an  en- 
tire absence  of  any  such  thing.  Though  they  recalled  the 
scene  to  mind,  and  were  prepared  to  describe  it,  they  did 
not  picture  it  to  the  inner  sense.  The  same  individual 
differences  appear  in  the  process  of  recalling  auditory, 

12 


olfactory  and  tactile  experience.  It  is  the  existence  of  great 
individual  differences  in  the  consciousness  of  the  same 
facts  which  gives  interest  to  this  result.  Men  may  com- 
pare notes  regarding  what  they  have  experienced,  and 
agree  as  to  the  material  facts,  while  nevertheless  their 
modes  of  being  conscious  of  the  recalled  facts  are  ex- 
tremely diverse. 

A  number  of  recent  studies  of  the  consciousness  attend- 
ing important  mental  functions,  such  as  judgment,  rea- 
soning and  voluntary  action,  have  come  to  negative  conclu- 
sions which  yet  have  their  value  from  one  point  of  view. 
There  appears  to  be  no  definite  sort  of  consciousness  ap- 
propriate to  each  of  these  functions,  no  introspective  mark 
or  differentia  of  each.  Given  the  starting  point  of  a  mental 
performance  and  its  outcome,  we  can  not  infer  what  con- 
sciousness intervened.  This  is  true  even  of  the  simple 
case,  familiar  in  the  laboratory,  in  which  two  sense  stimuli, 
one  following  the  other,  are  to  be  compared  in  intensity. 
The  old  conception  of  the  process  was  that  when  the  second 
stimulus  came,  an  image  of  the  first  recurred  to  mind ;  the 
two  were  held  up  side  by  side  in  consciousness  and  their 
likeness  or  difference  read  off.  Experiment  shows,  how- 
ever, that  though  this  is  sometimes  true,  more  often  the 
judgment  of  likeness  or  difference  arises  immediately 
on  the  presentation  of  the  second  stimulus,  without  any 
renewed  consciousness  of  the  first.  Such  results  show  that 
conscious  process  is  more  fluid  and  less  diagrammatic  than 
is  assumed  by  those  who  work  out  logical  schemes  of  what 
it  must  be.  They  show  too  that  consciousness  can  not  be 
known  by  its  fruits.  You  can  not  infer  what  consciousness 
must  be  from  its  objective  manifestations,  nor  even  can 
you,  keeping  wholly  within  the  stream  of  conscious  events, 
infer  what  has  gone  before  from  what  follows.  Each  bit 
of  consciousness  must  be  known,  if  at  all,  by  direct  observa- 
tion. 

13 


Facts  like  these  make  it  seem  impossible  to  employ  an 
objective  method  in  psychology.  Many  students  of  the 
subject,  in  short  one  of  the  two  great  parties  into  which 
psychologists  are  divided,  repelled  by  the  difficulties  and 
the  treacherousness  of  introspection,  have  resorted  to  the 
examination  of  objective  facts  connected  more  or  less  di- 
rectly with  mental  life.  Some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  assert 
that  only  by  such  means  could  scientific  information  re- 
garding the  mind  be  reached.  As  examples  of  such 
studies  may  be  mentioned  folk  psychology,  which  examines 
language,  myth  and  literature,  art,  customs  and  institu- 
tions, with  the  object  of  inferring  back  from  the  products 
of  mental  activity  to  the  character  of  the  activity.  We 
have  also  animal  and  child  psychology,  which  endeavor  to 
deal  with  minds  incapable  of  reporting  introspective  ob- 
servations. Here  belongs  as  well  a  large  part  of  the  work 
done  in  experimental  psychology,  for  often  the  person 
experimented  on  does  not  serve  strictly  as  an  observer  of 
his  inner  consciousness,  but  has  simply  to  react  in  some 
assigned  way  to  a  situation  which  is  presented  to  him.  He 
may  have  simply  to  move  his  finger  as  quickly  as  he  sees  a 
certain  light,  or  to  move  his  right  forefinger  when  red  is 
shown  him  and  his  left  forefinger  when  green  is  shown 
him,  or  he  may  have  to  name  a  presented  object  as 
promptly  as  possible,  or  answer  a  given  word  by  another 
word  standing  in  some  assigned  relation  to  it.  He  is  not 
asked  to  observe  his  consciousness  during  the  process,  but 
simply  to  react.  In  another  line  of  experiment,  the  per- 
son examined  is  presented  with  two  weights  differing  but 
slightly,  and  is  asked  to  say  which  is  the  heavier.  He  is 
not  asked  to  describe  the  contents  of  his  consciousness  dur- 
ing his  process  of  judging,  but  simply  to  judge.  Or 
again,  in  an  experiment  on  memory,  he  is  given  a  list  of 
disconnected  words  or  syllables,  which  he  studies  till  he 
can  repeat  them  in  proper  order ;  a  day  later  he  is  tested  to 

14 


see  how  much  of  the  list  he  retains.  He  is  not  asked  to 
describe  his  subjective  experiences  while  learning  or  recall- 
ing these  words,  but  is  merely  required  to  learn  and  recall 
them. 

Many  similar  experiments  have  been  carried  on  in  psy- 
chological laboratories,  and  have  been  received  by  the 
introspectionists  with  no  great  applause.  They  denounce 
the  method  as  unpsychological.  "You  are  not  attaining  to 
a  description  of  consciousness  by  this  means,"  they  say; 
and,  in  the  light  of  the  facts  alluded  to  a  few  moments  ago, 
they  are  clearly  right.  From  the  examination  of  a  paint- 
ing, for  example,  you  can  not  tell  what  was  in  the  mind  of 
the  painter  when  he  conceived  his  work ;  it  might  seem  that 
he  must  have  had  before  him  a  mental  picture  of  which  the 
existing  painting  is  a  copy;  but  among  the  painters  who 
have  been  asked  regarding  this,  some  have  denied  that 
such  a  mental  image  was  present,  and  even  that  they  had 
the  power  of  forming  a  mental  image.  When  we  already 
know  a  form  of  consciousness,  its  objective  manifestations, 
and  the  regularity  of  the  connection  between  them,  we 
can  of  course  infer  with  some  degree  of  probability  from 
the  manifestation  back  to  the  condition  of  consciousness. 
But  we  must  first  know  consciousness. 

From  all  this  it  becomes  clear  why  the  introspective 
psychologist  accuses  the  objective  psychologist  of  sailing 
under  false  colors.  He  may  be  studying  something,  and 
doubtless  is,  since  he  gets  results  which  display  consider- 
able regularity  and  precision,  but  he  is  not  studying  con- 
sciousness, and  if  psychology  is  the  science  of  conscious- 
ness, he  is  no  psychologist.  The  introspective  psychologist 
dubs  him  a  "psycho-physicist,"  or  a  "gnoseologist,"  or  a 
sort  of  physiologist;  and  mollified  by  the  verbal  distinc- 
tion, goes  his  way,  leaving  the  objective  student  to  go  his. 
The  choice  of  words  need  not  detain  us  here.  The  thing 
to  notice  is  that  a  large  share  of  those  who  call  themselves 

15 


psychologists  are  concerned  with  the  facts  which  can  be 
found  by  the  objective  method.  Of  what  nature,  then,  are 
these  facts?  The  objective  wing  has  not  taken  much 
trouble  to  justify  its  position  formally;  but  I  think  it  fail- 
to  say,  after  an  examination  of  the  detailed  problems 
which  they  set  themselves,  that  they  are  looking  for  the 
facts  of  mental  function,  that  they  are  seeking  the  causes 
and  conditions  of  mental  performances,  in  short  that  their 
study  is  dynamic.  They  are  not  trying  to  describe  con- 
sciousness, but  to  unearth  the  causal  relations  which  obtain 
among  mental  performances  and  between  them  and  their 
physical  conditions  and  manifestations. 

It  should  be  noted  that  the  introspective  method  has  not 
much  to  tell  of  the  causal  relations  of  the  conscious  events 
which  it  studies.  For  one  thing,  consciousness  is  not  a 
closed  system.  Physical  stimuli  are  always  breaking  into 
it  from  outside,  and  its  own  processes  are  constantly  leak- 
ing away  through  motor  channels.  The  dynamics  of 
consciousness  could  no  more  be  discovered  by  confining 
attention  to  consciousness  itself  than  the  laws  of  plant 
growth  could  be  made  out  by  studying  the  plant  in  isola- 
tion from  the  soil,  air  and  sunlight.  But,  what  is  rather 
surprising,  consciousness  not  only  fails  to  reveal  the  ex- 
ternal factors  which  determine  the  course  of  thought,  it 
does  not  even  reveal  with  any  completeness  the  internal  or 
cerebral  conditions  of  thought,  as  the  following  simple 
experiment  illustrates. 

Set  yourself  to  add  pairs  of  numbers — the  one-place 
numbers  will  do  as  well  as  any.  As  each  pair  is  presented, 
the  sum  immediately  occurs  to  mind.  But  now  change 
the  problem:  set  yourself  to  multiply  pairs  of  numbers; 
then  the  appearance  of  a  pair  straightway  calls  up  the 
product.  In  one  case  you  are  'set'  or  adjusted  for  addition, 
and  turn  out  sums;  in  the  other  you  are  set  or  adjusted  for 
multiplication,  and  turn  out  products.  Since  the  numbers 

16 


given  may  be  the  same  in  the  two  cases,  and  yet  lead  to 
different  results,  it  is  clear  that  the  mental  adjustment  has 
much  to  do  with  your  reaching  the  right  answers  so 
promptly.  But  now  interrupt  yourself  in  the  midst  of 
such  a  series  of  operations,  and  ask  what  consciousness  you 
have  of  this  set  or  adjustment  which  is  causally  so  im- 
portant. Usually  you  will  find  nothing — nothing,  at  least, 
more  definite  than  a  feeling  of  readiness  for  what  is  com- 
ing— nothing  characteristic  of  the  exact  problem  which 
you  are  prepared  to  solve.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
may  find  many  things  which  probably  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  mental  performance  in  question — sensations, 
images  and  tinges  of  emotion  which  only  happen  to  be 
there  at  the  same  time.  It  is  clear  that  conscious  process 
does  not  correspond  closely  with  mental  process,  if  by  the 
latter  term  is  meant  the  process  that  leads  to  some  mental 
result — a  perception,  a  recollection,  an  invention,  a  prefer- 
ence, a  decision,  the  solution  of  a  problem.  He  who  would 
trace  the  dynamic  process  by  which  such  results  are  reached 
can  not  content  himself  with  the  introspective  method, 
though  it  may  indeed  give  him  valuable  suggestions. 

It  is  this  sort  of  task  which  is  taken  up  by  those  psy- 
chologists who  use  the  objective  method.  The  essence  of 
the  method  consists  in  arousing  a  certain  type  of  reaction  to 
a  given  situation,  the  conditions  being  standardized,  and 
the  reaction,  as  far  as  possible,  reduced  to  quantitative 
terms.  The  conditions  are  now  varied  in  accordance  with 
some  definite  plan,  and  the  corresponding  changes  in  the 
reaction  are  noted.  The  relation  of  the  changes  in  re- 
sponse to  the  changes  in  the  conditions  is  the  important 
thing.  For  example,  it  is  desired  to  discover  how  the 
sense  of  sight,  which  at  first  thought  seems  incapable  of 
giving  anything  more  than  two-dimensional  pictures,  such 
as  might  be  accurately  represented  in  a  colored  photo- 
graph, nevertheless  enables  us  to  judge  of  the  third  dimen- 

17 


sion,  of  the  distance  of  objects  from  us.  Introspection 
does  not  reveal  the  factors  which  determine  the  judgment. 
Several  possible  factors  are  suggested,  as  hypotheses  are 
suggested  in  any  science;  such  as  perspective,  haze,  the 
presence  of  intervening  objects,  and  the  slightly  differing 
views  of  the  same  object  which  are  had  by  the  two  eyes. 
To  investigate  the  importance  of  intervening  objects  as 
a  factor  in  determining  the  judgment,  we  remove  them, 
placing  the  person  examined  in  a  dark  room  with  only  one 
spot  of  light  visible,  the  distance  of  which  he  has  to  judge. 
We  find  that  he  does  so  very  badly;  we  then  restore  some 
of  the  intervening  objects  and,  finding  his  judgment  im- 
proved, we  conclude  that  the  presence  of  intervening  ob- 
jects is  a  factor  in  the  judgment  of  distance.  Similarly, 
to  examine  the  importance  of  binocular  vision,  we  compare 
the  accuracy  of  the  judgment  with  one  and  with  both  eyes; 
and  finding  it  superior  with  both, — finding  also  that  the 
stereoscope,  which  presents  to  the  two  eyes  slightly  differ- 
ent views  corresponding  to  what  each  would  see  in  looking 
at  the  object,  gives  a  strong  impression  of  solidity  and 
distance, — we  infer  that  the  judgment  of  distance  is 
based  largely  on  this  difference  between  the  two  fields  of 
view. 

It  is  the  task  of  the  dynamic  psychologist  to  devise 
means  by  which  to  control  the  conditions  under  which 
a  mental  operation  is  performed  and  by  which  to  gauge 
the  character  and  success  of  the  operation.  For  control- 
ling the  conditions  a  great  number  of  special  devices  are 
employed,  which  can  not  easily  be  summarized  in  a  few 
words.  For  gauging  the  success  of  the  operation,  meas- 
urement can  be  applied  in  three  ways  at  least,  as  to  its 
speed,  its  accuracy  and  what  may  perhaps  be  called  its 
force  or  energy.  As  examples  of  the  measurement  of  the 
energy  of  mental  activity  may  be  mentioned  the  deter- 
mination of  the  number  of  items  of  a  given  kind  that  can 

18 


be  grasped  at  a  single  glance— the  number  being  found 
to  increase  greatly  when  the  items  are  related  in  easily 
perceived  ways — or  of  the  amount  that  can  be  memorized 
at  a  single  reading.  More  common  are  measurements  of 
speed  and  accuracy.  The  older  classics  of  experimental 
psychology  are  largely  devoted  to  the  accuracy  of  sense 
discrimination  and  to  the  speed  of  simple  mental  processes. 
The  speed  is  valuable  as  affording  an  index  of  the  com- 
plexity and  difficulty  of  the  mental  operation. 

In  recent  years,  the  center  of  gravity  of  investigation 
has  shifted  from  perception  to  the  motor  processes  and 
especially  to  the  central  processes,  such  as  association, 
memory  and  the  effects  of  practise  or  training.  Eye  move- 
ments, important  to  psychology  because  of  their  connec- 
tion with  theories  of  space  perception  and  of  appreciation 
of  beauty  of  form,  and  with  the  act  of  reading,  have  been 
recorded  photographically  by  psychologists,  with  rather 
striking  and  important  results.  Many  facts  are  being 
disclosed  regarding  the  conditions  of  greatest  efficiency  in 
memorizing,  and  regarding  the  laws  of  retention  and  re- 
call. In  the  older  work,  the  improvement  of  a  function 
with  practise  was  principally  a  disturbing  factor,  since  it 
created  difficulty  in  the  way  of  comparing  repeated  obser- 
vations on  the  same  person.  Of  late,  the  practise  effect 
has  aroused  interest  for  its  own  sake.  The  person  tested 
repeats  the  same  performance  time  after  time  under  the 
same  conditions,  his  success  being  measured.  Almost  any 
performance  will  serve  as  the  subject  matter  of  the  experi- 
ment, since  all  improve  with  practise,  though  in  unequal 
measure. 

The  results  may  be  presented  graphically  in  a  "practise 
curve,"  which,  much  after  the  fashion  of  the  temperature 
curve  of  physicians  or  the  curves  of  barometric  pressure 
and  wind  velocity  put  out  by  the  weather  bureau,  shows 
the  changes  in  efficiency  of  the  function  with  the  progress 

19 


of  training.  Much  might  be  said  of  the  results  of  this 
line  of  study.  If  we  analyze  the  lack  of  precision  of  a 
performance  into  its  variability,  by  virtue  of  which  the 
successive  repetitions  differ  irregularly  among  themselves, 
and  its  constant  error,  by  virtue  of  which  all  the  repetitions 
differ  in  the  same  direction  from  the  truly  successful  per- 
formance, then  it  appears  that  repetition  will  by  itself 
reduce  the  variability,  but  will  not  eliminate  the  constant 
error,  which  can  only  be  trained  out  by  checking  up  the 
performance  against  the  standard  of  success.  Only  repe- 
tition gives  regularity ;  only  correction  conduces  to  perfec- 
tion. When  the  standard  of  success  is  not  very  high, 
corrected  practise  leads  to  speedy  perfection.  When  the 
operation  is  difficult  or  the  standard  of  success  high,  as  in 
telegraplvy,  the  improvement,  at  first  rapid,  becomes  dis- 
couragingly  slow,  but  after  several  months  of  continued 
practise,  may  take  a  sudden  rise,  leading  to  a  condition  of 
passable  proficiency,  after  which  further  gain  is  slower  and 
slower,  as  the  "physiological  limit"  of  the  individual  for 
that  performance  is  reached.  But  experiment  has  also 
shown  that  the  physiological  limit  is  seldom  reached,  or 
closely  approached,  in  the  usual,  non-experimental  condi- 
tions of  the  practise  of  a  trade  or  profession.  Type-setters, 
after  ten  to  twenty  years  of  experience,  were  thought  by 
a  certain  investigator  to  be  suitable  subjects  for  an  experi- 
ment in  which  it  was  desirable  that  the  subjects  should 
have  reached  their  utmost  efficiency.  When  the  experi- 
ment was  begun,  an  immediate  rise  was  noted — which  by 
itself  was  not  surprising.  What  was  surprising  was  that 
after  this  sudden  jump,  due  to  the  increased  stimulus  of 
the  test,  there  came  a  gradual  rise,  a  practise  curve,  in  fact, 
on  top  of  ten  to  twenty  years  of  practise.  Similar  results 
have  appeared  in  other  lines  of  work.  Under  the  condi- 
tion of  a  practise  experiment,  a  German-English  vocabu- 
lary can  be  learned  with  considerably  greater  speed — and 

20 


apparently  also  retained  better — than  in  the  ordinary  con- 
ditions of  school  or  private  learning.  The  stimulating 
influence  of  the  experimental  conditions  lies  in  part  in  the 
fact  that  the  individual  has  a  measure  of  his  success,  and 
in  part  in  the  competitive  stimulus;  he  competes  not  only 
with  others — a  sort  of  competition  which  is  usually  un- 
equal— but  also  with  himself.  Herein  appears  a  contrast 
between  introspective  and  dynamic  studies:  whereas  the 
conditions  of  an  introspective  observation  interfere  to  some 
degree  with  the  process  which  is  observed,  an  experiment 
in  dynamic  psychology  is  apt  to  arouse  the  function  ex- 
ercised to  its  full  activity.  The  practical  value  of  these 
results  both  to  the  educator  and  to  any  man  in  the  conduct 
of  his  life  and  business  is  obvious.  If  one's  work  can  be 
made  an  experiment,  and  the  success  of  it  measured  and 
recorded,  a  great  gain  in  efficiency  may  be  expected. 

Much  of  the  newer  and  more  exact  work  in  one  of  the 
most  flourishing  departments  of  psychology,  that  which 
examines  the  mental  capacities  of  various  orders  of  ani- 
mals, depends  for  its  method  on  the  study  of  the  practise 
effect.  The  questions  whether  an  animal  can  learn,  how 
fast,  how  much,  and  by  what  means,  are  fundamental. 
Considerable  revision  in  our  conceptions  has  been  brought 
about  lately  by  the  discovery  that  even  protozoans  can  be 
taught,  that  their  behavior  is  modifiable  by  experience.  At 
the  other  end  of  the  scale,  tests  show  that  the  primates  are 
nearest  to  man,  not  only  in  anatomy,  but  as  well  in  fertility 
and  quickness  of  learning,  while  still  the  highest  forms 
which  have  so  far  been  carefully  studied  are  inferior  to 
the  human  infant  of  the  age  of  one  year.  The  anthropoid 
apes  have  not  as  yet  received  the  attention  they  deserve. 
The  method  has  been  employed  in  endeavoring  to  answer 
the  vexed  question  regarding  the  reason  of  animals.  Most 
of  the  discussion  of  this  topic  rested,  till  quite  recently,  on 
anecdotes  rather  than  on  experiment.  The  defect  of  the 

21 


anecdotal  method  is  that,  though  the  animal  is  known  to 
have  learned,  no  observations  have  been  made  as  to  how 
he  learned.  It  may  be  asserted  that  no  movement  what- 
ever, however  skilled  and  however  adaptive,  can  prove  rea- 
son in  its  performer,  in  the  absence  of  knowledge  as  to 
how  the  movement  was  acquired.  The  most  wonderfully 
skilled  and  adaptive  of  all  movements  are  inherited,  not  ac- 
quired, by  the  individual.  The  practise-curve  method  gives 
at  least  negative  information  in  the  following  way :  What- 
ever may  be  the  full  definition  of  reason,  it  is  clear  that 
in  practical  use  it  involves  grasping  the  essential  feature 
of  the  situation — essential,  that  is,  for  the  purpose  in 
hand— and  reacting  to  this  feature  in  neglect  of  the  un- 
essential. Place  a  human  being  in  a  cage  from  which  he 
can  escape  by  some  concealed  mechanism,  and  his  first 
efforts  will  of  necessity  be  blind  experimenting,  resulting 
finally  in  accidental  success.  Replace  him  in  the  cage,  and 
in  the  course  of  a  number  of  trials  he  will  observe  by  what 
means  his  success  comes,  and  will  from  that  instant  drop 
all  his  unsuccessful  gropings  and  do  only  the  one  thing 
needful.  No  such  moment  of  insight  is  revealed  in  the 
process  by  which  a  dog  or  cat  learns  most  of  his  tricks, 
and  in  the  case  of  the  monkey,  though  the  process  of  learn- 
ing is  rapid  when  the  trick  is  simple  enough,  there  is  in 
more  difficult  cases  no  sign  of  a  moment  of  comprehen- 
sion. The  difference  may  however  be  a  matter  of  degree — 
of  the  degree  of  complexity  which  the  different  species  are 
capable  of  grasping.  When  the  thing  to  be  learned  is  so 
simple  as  the  mere  location  of  an  object  that  causes  pain, 
it  can  be  learned  by  a  mouse  in  one  or  two  trials.  Harder 
tasks,  such  as  pulling  a  string,  which  a  cat  learns  only  by 
a  long  and  gradual  process,  are  learned  in  a  few  trials  by 
a  monkey.  A  still  more  difficult  performance,  as,  for 
example,  the  opening  of  a  door  by  a  combination  of  sim- 
ple acts  which  must  be  done  in  a  certain  order,  can  hardly 

22 


if  at  all  be  taught  to  a  cat,  and  to  a  monkey  only  by  a  slow 
process  like  that  seen  in  the  cat  in  learning  the  pulling  of 
a  string,  while  an  adult  man  learns  it  in  from  two  to  six 
trials.  But  there  are  tasks  yet  more  complicated  and  re- 
condite, which  even  man  learns  only  by  the  slow  and 
gradual  process — a  process  in  which  the  essentials  of  suc- 
cess are  never  recognized,  though  success  is  finally  attained 
by  the  gradual  and  unnoticed  elimination  of  false  moves. 
Examples  of  this  process  in  man  are  seen  in  the  acquisition 
of  high  skill  in  singing  or  playing  the  violin,  or  in  handling 
the  sword  or  tennis  racquet.  Insight  is  not  entirely  absent 
here,  but  insight  alone  does  not  do  the  work,  as  is  seen 
from  the  fact  that  perfect  form  results  only  from  the  slow 
accretions  of  constant  practise. 

Besides  animal  psychology,  the  most  cultivated  among 
what  may  be  called  the  outlying  fields  of  psychology  are 
the  genetic  and  the  pathological.  Progress  is  being  made 
in  tracing  the  rate  of  growth  of  the  capacities  of  the  in- 
dividual, in  correlating  mental  with  physical  growth,  and 
in  assigning  to  hereditary  endowment  on  the  one  hand  and 
to  experience  and  training  on  the  other  their  contributions 
to  the  superiority  or  inferiority  of  the  individual  to  his 
fellows — the  preponderance  certainly  seeming  to  lie  on  the 
side  of  heredity.  In  mental  pathology,  a  vast  amount  of 
preliminary  prospecting  has  been  done  by  physicians,  and 
the  ground  prepared  for  more  rigorous  observation  and 
experiment,  which  has  indeed  been  begun,  particularly 
with  neurotic  patients,  hysterical  neurasthenic  and  epi- 
leptic. 

Abnormal  psychology  is  in  large  measure  an  application 
of  the  science  for  the  practical  ends  of  diagnosis,  of  sug- 
gesting modes  of  treatment  and  of  testing  their  success. 
It  is  hoped,  not  only  that  the  results  of  psychology  may 
help  towards  the  understanding  of  mental  abnormalities, 
but  that  the  methods  of  psychology  may  prove  capable  of 

23 


adaptation  to  the  needs  of  those  who  require  quantitative 
tests  of  mental  condition. 

The  principal  application  of  psychology  is,  at  present, 
to  education.  Such  work  as  that  above  mentioned  on 
practise  and  learning  has  an  obvious  bearing  on  the  prob- 
lems of  the  schoolroom,  while  some  of  the  broader  results 
of  genetic  psychology  are  germane  to  the  task  of  those 
who  arrange  the  courses  of  study.  But,  as  with  the  appli- 
cations to  medicine,  it  is  not  simply  the  results  of  psy- 
chology that  should  prove  fruitful  in  education;  it  is  still 
more  to  be  hoped  that  the  empirical  and  experimental 
method  may  spread  over  from  the  one  to  the  other.  Edu- 
cation must  become  a  science  on  its  own  account — an  ex- 
perimental science — related  to  psychology  somewhat  as 
engineering  is  related  to  physics,  or  agriculture  to  botany. 
With  so  much  experience  as  he  gets  of  the  great  differ- 
ences in  result  that  sometimes  follow  from  slight  changes 
in  the  conditions,  the  psychologist  would  be  the  first  to 
admit  that  the  conclusions  reached  in  his  laboratory  ought 
not  to  be  carried  over  without  discrimination  into  the 
schoolroom.  The  problems  of  education  must  finally  be 
solved  by  experimentation  within  the  educational  field. 

With  much  the  same  reserve  the  psychologist  ap- 
proaches the  possibility  of  applying  his  science  to  other 
fields,  such  as  business — in  which,  for  example,  the  con- 
ditions of  successful  advertising  form  clearly  a  psycho- 
logical problem — and  such  as  the  practise  of  law.  The 
courtroom  teems  with  problems  which  are  not  simply 
psychological  in  the  vague  sense  that  they  are  concerned 
with  mental  processes,  but  are  such  as  can  be  attacked  by 
methods  that  have  been  worked  out  in  psychology.  The 
reliability  of  testimony,  the  influence  of  leading  questions 
on  the  reliability  of  the  answers,  the  relative  merits  of  judge 
and  jury  as  devices  for  establishing  questions  of  fact,  are 
fit  subjects  for  an  experiment,  the  main  point  of  which 

24 


would  be  to  insure  that  the  facts  regarding  which  the  testi- 
mony is  to  be  given  be  certainly  known  in  advance  to  the 
experimenter.  Some  work  has  already  been  done  by 
psychologists  in  collaboration  with  professors  of  law  on 
the  reliability  of  the  testimony  of  eye-witnesses ;  and  rather 
a  surprising  degree  of  unreliability  has  been  disclosed. 
Not  only  is  there  a  large  percentage  of  omissions,  but  there 
is  a  smaller  but  still  considerable  percentage  of  positive 
assertions  of  what  did  not  take  place.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  anyone  to  witness  an  event  without  forming  to 
himself  some  conception  of  its  inner  meaning  and  reading 
this  meaning  into  the  event  as  he  sees  and  as  he  remembers 
it;  and  as  a  false  meaning  may  very  readily  be  read  into 
events,  the  testimony  will  be  correspondingly  vitiated. 
Such  general  criticism  as  is  implied  in  this  result  is  perhaps 
of  no  great  practical  value;  and  in  fact  the  legal  profes- 
sion has  not  received  this  incipient  irruption  of  psychology 
into  law  with  any  great  show  of  enthusiasm.  But  when 
the  experiment  is  carried  into  details,  and  the  varying  re- 
liability of  testimony  to  different  classes  of  facts  and  by 
different  classes  of  persons  is  assigned — when,  for  ex- 
ample, it  is  found  that  the  time  occupied  by  an  event  is 
judged  very  poorly,  that  inherently  probable  and  com- 
monplace events  are  less  reliably  reported  than  inherently 
improbable,  or  that  the  reliability  of  a  person's  testimony 
bears  no  very  close  relation  to  the  confidence  with  which 
he  gives  it — it  would  seem  that  the  results  were  capable  of 
application.  Here  again,  however,  the  conclusions  ob- 
tained in  the  laboratory  need  to  be  retested  in  the  sphere 
where  they  are  applied. 

It  is  the  hope  of  psychology  that  her  results  may  prove 
capable  of  application  in  the  work  of  her  sister  sciences, 
especially  zoology,  anthropology,  sociology  and  every 
science  that  has  to  do  with  human  or  animal  behavior.  She 
comes  in  contact  with  still  other  sciences,  especially  with 

25 


physics,  from  which  she  derives  much  of  her  technical 
equipment;  with  mathematics,  from  which  she  derives  the 
statistical  methods  that  are  necessary  in  much  of  her  work ; 
and  even  with  astronomy,  which  gave  the  impetus  to  one 
of  her  earliest  problems,  that  of  reaction  time  and  the  per- 
sonal equation.  But  it  is  to  philosophy  and  physiology 
that  the  relations  of  psychology  are  particularly  interest- 
ing. Psychology  has  sprung  from  each  of  them,  though  not 
exactly  from  their  union.  Both  philosophy  and  medicine  ' 
have  been  called  mothers  of  the  sciences,  and  psychology 
filially  owns  the  relationship  in  each  case.  The  philo- 
sophical parentage  is  of  long  standing,  the  medical  or 
physiological — for  in  this  instance  it  is  fair  to  identify  the 
two— dates  from  the  last  century.  In  spite  of  these  his- 
torical dependences,  psychology  has  the  right  to  an 
independent  standing  as  a  science.  The  close  relation  of 
philosophical  and  psychological  interests  can  easily  be 
over-emphasized.  Philosophy  is  not  specially  dependent  on 
psychology;  it  needs  the  data  of  psychology,  but  it  needs 
equally  the  data  of  the  other  sciences.  Nor  is  the  depend- 
ence of  psychology  on  philosophy  peculiarly  close.  Every 
science  has  its  metaphysics,  its  presuppositions  and  ulti- 
mate questions  the  proof  or  solution  of  which  is  not  ap- 
proached by  the  methods  appropriate  to  that  science.  The 
fact  that  students  of  psychology  seem  particularly  prone 
to  become  worried  over  such  questions  is  probably  to  be 
explained  by  the  historical  association  of  the  two  sciences, 
and  is' a  tendency  rather  to  be  deprecated  than  encouraged. 
In  the  actual,  immediate,  concrete  work  of  his  science,  the 
psychologist  is  no  more  concerned  with  metaphysical  ques- 
tions than  is  the  chemist  or  the  zoologist. 

The  relation  of  psychology  to  physiology  is  of  a  differ- 
ent kind.  Physiology  is  not  only  occupied  with  applying 
physics  and  chemistry  to  the  living  organism— which  is  no 
doubt  its  main  business— but  also,  finding  certain  organs 

26 


the  function  of  which  can  not  as  yet  be  stated  in  physical 
and  chemical  terms,  namely,  the  sense  organs  and  the  brain, 
and  yet  wishing,  for  the  sake  of  completeness,  to  state  the 
functions  of  these  organs  as  well  as  may  be,  it  has  had 
recourse  to  methods  which  do  not  differ  appreciably  from 
those  of  psychology,  depending  as  they  do  on  the  reactions 
and  self -observation  of  the  conscious  subject.  Thus  the 
provinces  of  the  two  sciences  overlap  to  quite  an  extent; 
and  there  are  those  who  will  have  it  that  psychology,  in 
so  far  as  it  amounts  to  anything,  is  but  a  part  of  physi- 
ology. The  practical  answer  to  this  is  that  physiologists 
will  not  usually  investigate  such  things  as  the  peculiarities 
of  memory  and  imagination.  Were  it  not  for  the  psychol- 
ogist, the  problems  of  mental  action  would  remain  un- 
studied. He  comes  in  to  fill  the  gap  left  by  physiology 
because  of  the  high  development  of  its  physical  and  chemi- 
cal technique  and  the  engrossing  success  which  that  tech- 
nique is  meeting. 

But  is  this  gap  more  than  temporary?  If  the  goal  of 
the  physiologist  were  attained,  and  all  organic  functions 
were  dissected  and  accurately  stated  in  physical  and  chemi- 
cal terms,  would  there  be  anything  left  for  the  psychol- 
ogist to  say?  Would  not  his  cruder  statements  become 
obsolete,  as  the  vague  outlines  of  a  landscape  seen  in  the 
morning  twilight  lose  their  significance  in  the  full,  clear 
view  of  day? 

Socrates,  one  of  the  founders  of  psychology,  as  he  sat 
in  prison  with  his  disciples,  waiting  for  the  jailer  to  bring 
him  the  fatal  draught  of  hemlock,  alluded  to  the  difference 
between  the  physiological  and  the  psychological  points  of 
view  in  some  such  terms  as  these :  "What  should  we  think 
of  a  person  who,  when  he  endeavored  to  explain  the  causes 
of  my  actions,  should  proceed  to  explain  that  I  sit  here 
because  my  body  is  made  up  of  bones  and  muscles:  .  .  . 
and  as  the  bones  are  lifted  at  their  joints  by  the  contrac- 

27 


tion  or  relaxation  of  the  muscles,  I  am  able  to  bend  my 
limbs,  and  that  is  why  I  am  sitting  here  in  a  curved  pos- 
ture; .  .  .  and  should  give  a  similar  explanation  of  my 
talking  with  you,  which  he  would  attribute  to  sound,  and 
air,  and  hearing,  and  ten  thousand  other  causes  of  the  same 
sort;  forgetting  to  mention  the  true  cause,  which  is,  that 
the  Athenians  have  thought  fit  to  condemn  me,  and  accord- 
ingly I  have  thought  it  better  and  more  right  to  remain 
here  and  undergo  my  sentence?" 

The  modern  psychologist  would  not  think  so  lightly  of 
the  physiological  explanation;  he  recognizes  in  it  one  of 
the  worthiest  goals  of  scientific  endeavor.  But  he  would 
still  maintain  that  the  psychological  interpretation  of  con- 
duct has  its  proper  place.  The  distinction  is  not  properly 
that  between  mechanism  and  teleology ;  for  a  motive,  to  the 
psychologist,  is  a  cause  among  causes.  The  difference  is 
essentially  one  of  minuteness;  physiology  being  the  more 
minute  in  its  analysis  of  cause  and  effect.  It  is  related  to 
psychology  much  as  microscopic  is  related  to  gross  anat- 
omy. Now  the  invention  of  the  microscope  has  not  made 
the  sight  of  the  naked  eye  valueless,  even  for  scientific  pur- 
poses. Microscopic  anatomy  has  not  supplanted  gross 
anatomy  but  has  simply  been  added  to  it.  In  much  the  same 
way,  the  conception  of  the  geological  ages  is  not  made 
trivial  by  reflecting  that  the  actual  succession  was  one  of 
seconds  and  not  of  ages.  Detailed  maps  of  every  quad- 
rangle in  the  country  do  not  enable  us  to  dispense  with  a 
condensed  map  of  the  whole  country.  The  relations  which 
are  visible  in  the  condensed  map  can  not  be  grasped  from 
the  detailed  maps.  The  relations  brought  out  by  geology 
would  be  lost  sight  of  in  following  second  by  second,  if  that 
were  possible,  the  physical  and  chemical  history  of  the 
earth.  In  a  word,  the  relations  that  appear  in  the  gross 
disappear,  give  place  to  others,  on  a  minuter  view.  A  de- 
tailed view  must  always  be  a  limited  view,  for  no  greater 

28 


assemblage  of  facts  can  be  grasped  in  one  act  of  compre- 
hension when  the  facts  are  minute  than  when  they  are 
broad  and  inclusive.  And  as  time  and  space  are  apparently 
divisible  without  limit,  as  to  omniscience  "a  thousand  years 
are  as  a  day  and  a  day  as  a  thousand  years,"  neither  the 
broad  nor  the  minute  view  can  boast  itself  against  the  other. 
Examine  every  tissue  of  the  body  under  the  microscope,  take 
cognizance  of  every  cell,  its  form  and  relations;  and  you 
still  know  nothing  of  the  facts  taught  by  gross  anatomy. 
Trace  out  each  reaction  of  an  animal,  noting  every  trans- 
formation and  transmission  of  energy  from  the  point  of 
stimulation  to  the  point  of  response,  and  you  still  know 
nothing  of  animal  behavior. 

Quite  akin  to  the  science  of  behavior,  psychology  seeks 
to  trace  the  relations  of  those  rather  gross  fragments  of  the 
universal  process  which  we  call  contents  of  consciousness 
and  mental  activities.  Its  dissection  is  less  minute  than 
that  of  physiology,  but  the  relations  which  it  reveals  are 
none  the  less  real,  and  may  be  none  the  less  illuminating. 
Motives,  conduct,  training,  efficiency,  stages  in  the  devel- 
opment and  dissolution  of  the  mind,  will  still  retain  their 
significance  however  minutely  their  inner  mechanism  shall 
be  analyzed  by  physiology ;  and  the  relations  between  them 
which  psychology  discovers  and  is  to  discover  will  always 
retain  both  scientific  and  practical  value. 


29 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 


A  SERIES  of  twenty-two  lectures  descriptive  in  untechnical  language  of 
the  achievements  in   Science,   Philosophy  and  Art,  and  indicating  the 
present  status  of  these  subjects  as  concepts  of  human  knowledge,  are  being 
delivered  at  Columbia   University,  during  the  academic  year   1907-1908,  by 
various  professors  chosen  to  represent  the  several  departments  of  instruction. 

MATHEMATICS,  by  Cassius  Jackson  Keyser,  Adrain  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics. 

PHYSICS,  by  Ernest  Fox  Nichols,  Professor  of  Experimental  Physics. 

CHEMISTRY,  by  Charles  F.  Chandler,  Professor  of  Chemistry. 

ASTRONOMY,  by  Harold  Jacoby,  Rutherfurd  Professor  of  Astronomy. 

GEOLOGY,  by  James  Furman  Kemp,  Professor  of  Geology. 

BIOLOGY,  by  Edmund  B.  Wilson,  Professor  of  Zoology. 

PHYSIOLOGY,  by  Frederic  S.  Lee,  Professor  of  Physiology. 

BOTANY,  by  Herbert  Maule  Richards,  Professor  of  Botany. 

ZOOLOGY,  by  Henry  E.  Crampton,  Professor  of  Zoology. 

ANTHROPOLOGY,  by  Franz  Boas,  Professor  of  Anthropology. 

ARCHAEOLOGY,  by  James  Rignall  Wheeler,  Professor  of  Greek  Archae- 
ology and  Art. 

HISTORY,  by  James  Harvey  Robinson,  Professor  of  History. 

ECONOMICS,  by  Henry  Rogers  Seager,  Professor  of  Political  Economy. 

POLITICS,  by  Charles  A.  Beard,  Adjunct  Professor  of  Politics. 

JURISPRUDENCE,  by  Munroe  Smith,  Professor  of  Roman  Law  and 
Comparative  Jurisprudence. 

SOCIOLOGY,  by  Franklin  Henry  Giddings,  Professor  of  Sociology. 

PHILOSOPHY,  by  Nicholas  Murray  Butler,  President  of  the  University. 

PSYCHOLOGY,  by  Robert  S.  Woodworth,  Adjunct  Professor  of  Psy- 
chology. 

METAPHYSICS,  by  Frederick  J.  E.  Woodbridge,  Johnsonian  Professor  of 
Philosophy. 

ETHICS,  by  John  Dewey,  Professor  of  Philosophy. 

PHILOLOGY,  by  A.  V.  W.  Jackson,  Professor  of  Indo-Iranian  Lan- 
guages. 

LITERATURE,  by  Harry  Thurston  Peck,  Anthon  Professor  of  the  Latin 
Language  and  Literature. 

These  lectures  are  published  by  the  Columbia  University  Press  separately  in 
pamphlet  form,  at  the  uniform  price  of  twenty-five  cents,  by  mail  twenty-eight 
cents.  Orders  will  be  taken  for  the  separate  pamphlets,  or  for  the  whole  series. 

Address 

THE  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

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